


Only in Dreams

by blivengo



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Based On a D&D Game, D&D Backstory, Dungeons & Dragons 5th Edition, Fantasy, Gen, RPG, Roleplaying Character, Science Fiction & Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 13:12:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14977892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blivengo/pseuds/blivengo
Summary: A young druid leaves everything behind to chase a beckoning from the dream...





	Only in Dreams

She was born with no fanfare to a single mother living in a small coven of druids in the frigid region of Icewind Dale. She was raised to join a circle of the land, like all her coven, but, somehow, through sleepless nights and wakeful apparitions, found her place in the circle of dreams, where a strange, distant mentor led her between reality and the realms of the fey. She grew strong, with a deep connection to nature and the means to bring about peace and healing to those who required it. She was a respected, important member of the coven, and she truly enjoyed her quiet life with them…but something was calling to her, something had always been calling to her – from Faerûn, the fey realms, or the dream between, she wasn’t sure, but the pull was undeniably real, and irresistible. The night before she was to be paired to begin renewing the emptiness left by the passing members of the coven, under cover of bitter darkness, without so much as a whisper of farewell, Thessara Aekis Thornpaw ventured off, never to return…

*******

Years past as Thessara wandered – often alone, sometimes with small bands of do-gooders or vagabonds. She had no direction, only a purpose, only an ever-increasing pull toward something; something she was becoming increasingly sure was to be her undoing rather than some blissful salvation. But, still, she carried on. Across tundra, over rivers, through forests, following a path only her sleeping mind could see, she carried on.

Her life went on like this, chaotically, until one autumn afternoon, in a sun-kissed meadow near a densely boughed woodland trail, a small doe trod gingerly between her and a massive tree she meant to meditate beneath. The doe made her way to the trail head and turned back, a look of eager pleading showing in her dark eyes. All at once, as if attached by invisible threads, Thessara was pulled after the doe by way of her own legs, but not by any command she’d given – she was sleepwalking, as she had many times while visiting the dream between realms, only this time she was fully awake and in no way controlling her own body. She was immediately terrified, and attempted to draw her stone-tipped spear, but, instead, grinned and reached her hands out toward the doe like a toddler who wants something just out of their grasp. The moment before she would have closed the gap and made contact with the deer’s thickening coat, the animal took off, and Thessara sprinted after it.

While running, she tried desperately to sever the connection to whatever had taken hold of her, but could feel nothing but the invisible strings tugging her along, as if they were attached to emptiness. Looking around, frantic, and far beyond alarmed, she noticed a small hut coming into view with a faint wisp of smoke rising from the adobe chimney. Suddenly, the world around her began to shimmer as if she were seeing it through heated air, and then the truth of her surroundings melted into view: everything was dead. All the trees, bushes, and other foliage stood in blighted ruin, and the innocent doe she thought she was following was revealed as a demonic stag with greasy black fur, twisted antlers, and dry, red eyes. Noticing the disgusting look of recognition on Thessara’s face, the vile stag began to laugh as it jerked and popped, shifting its body into that of a decaying elf.

“I see deception’s run its course, my dear,” the thing sputtered amongst cackles. “It’s no matter, you’re here, that’s my prize,” he added, his laugh turning to a cough that shot blood and bile from his mouth.

“Wh-what are you,” Thessara gasped, then, finding her courage, continued in a more demanding tone, “what do you want from me?”

“I only wanted to meet what’s mine,” said the elf, almost pitifully. He cast his gaze toward the ground for a moment, as if ashamed, but when his head rose his face showed a grotesque smile of putrid, yellow teeth. Then, screaming, he said, “and to wipe away your stain!” He lunged at Thessara with a gnarled, long-nailed hand that may as well have been a claw.

Thessara blocked his advance easily with her shield and then countered, bringing the blunt end of her spear to bear under her attacker’s chin, momentarily stunning him as bits of rotten flesh tore away, leaving holes in his scraggly beard. Not wasting a moment, she spat in her hand and quickly uttered the incantation to summon an ice knife that she hurled straight for the abomination’s heart. Her aim was true.

The elf shook off his daze, looked down at the magical weapon protruding from his chest and doubled over in laughter. “Nothing but ice there already, my dear,” he said, and pulled the knife out, letting it fall harmlessly to the ruined forest floor where it vanished.

Not taking time for words or thoughts, only actions, Thessara changed her grip on her spear and jabbed it forward, intending to pierce the elf through the eye, but, at the last possible moment, he feinted right and took the sharp edge across the temple. Blood and puss spilled down the side of his face.

“You’re not playing nice, young lady,” he said as his hand went to his new wound. “We’ll have to finish this little game later.” As he said this, that awful popping sound started, and his body began shrinking into the shape of a raven.

“No!” Thessara cried, shrill and powerful. “This ends now!” And she threw her spear with all her might toward the fleeing bird. There was a wet _thwip_ sound, followed by the solid _thunk_ of a spear lodging into dead wood. The pinned raven let out a near-human caw, clawed air, and flailed wildly until its head tore free, sending it and the now-stilled body clattering to the ground.

As it landed, a rift opened in the dream and a translucent vision of a male elf in long robes of green and gold stepped through. He took his time to survey the scene, focused on the raven for just a moment, and then turned his full attention to Thessara. “You’ve really done it, my dear,” he said in a voice that was the healthy twin to that of the creature she’d just killed. “And so easily…my, I’d really let myself go.” The vision took a few steps forward and caressed Thessara’s stunned cheek with his ghostly hand. “You’ve really done it, daughter,” he said, grinning, and then disappeared.

Thessara dropped to her knees and wept. With a trembling hand, she scooped up the raven’s decapitated head and nuzzled it in her palm, barely able to keep it from shaking free and falling again. After several minutes of staring through watery eyes, she managed a single word: “father.”

*******

Years past again. This time, Thessara simply stayed put, doing her best to mend the eternal damage that had been done to this special nook of the forest. Though she never saw the vision of her father again, she kept the raven skull, now a perfectly polished alabaster, and often held palaver with it as if it were still alive. This is how she passes her days:  seeing to a broken part of reality, while carrying on with a lost part.

She found it harder and harder to feel her way into the fey realm, almost deciding to give up, until one autumn afternoon, in a sun-kissed meadow of dust and death, a single wild rose bloomed where nothing had lived for who knows how many decades, and, from its brilliant pedals, a simple message was transferred from the fey straight to Thessara’s mind: _go now, there’s more to be done_. With this, Thessara’s purpose was restored – the pull was back, but, instead of guiding her to a single, unknown destination, it was telling her to be everywhere, to just go. _There’s more to be done_.


End file.
